In November of 1949 we saw a bit of an "AA" renaissance. Wartime AA chief, Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Pile (Bart)'s book-length version of his war's end communique, Ack-Ack; and American technocrat Vannevar Bush's Modern Arms and Free Men manage to make it into the back pages (sort of) of the periodicals we follow.
Our apologies to whatever second-rate archaeological dreck or wartime reminiscence that Time and Flight, respectively, would otherwise have covered. Thanks to that forebearance, we know that Pile was robustly enthusiastic about AA in the new nuclear age, whilst Vannevar Bush thought that it was actually now possible to defend against the nuclear terror weapon. While we're a long way from the Reagan-era high flowering of Star Wars, that day is perhaps peeping over the horizon.
Our apologies to whatever second-rate archaeological dreck or wartime reminiscence that Time and Flight, respectively, would otherwise have covered. Thanks to that forebearance, we know that Pile was robustly enthusiastic about AA in the new nuclear age, whilst Vannevar Bush thought that it was actually now possible to defend against the nuclear terror weapon. While we're a long way from the Reagan-era high flowering of Star Wars, that day is perhaps peeping over the horizon.
So it seems like a good week to stop and contemplate ABM, a sort of recurrent fever or species of social contagion, not entirely unlike other moral and other panics that periodically infect us.
This isn't to say that such things are entirely futile. Runaway cold virii sell a lot of garlic, ginger and onions, the green grocer knows, and vast schemes of antiballistic defence may produce electronic (and other) spin-offs.
This isn't to say that such things are entirely futile. Runaway cold virii sell a lot of garlic, ginger and onions, the green grocer knows, and vast schemes of antiballistic defence may produce electronic (and other) spin-offs.